


don't walk away

by mikaylamazing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylamazing/pseuds/mikaylamazing
Summary: The first time Cas realizes he's in love with Dean Winchester.---Retroactive 9x06 coda fic based on the headcanon that Cas loved Dean the whole time, but didn't realize it until he felt human emotions for the first time
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 205





	don't walk away

**Author's Note:**

> is the title another mcr reference? that's a secret i'll never tell xoxo gossip girl
> 
> anyway im obsessed with this idea now and will keep this headcanon until i die

Cas doesn’t know how to explain the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He has to wonder if it’s a side effect of being stabbed there. He’s never really thought about the repercussions of getting hurt. He’s never had to.

The fragility of human life is not lost on him, he’s always known that humans succumb to some of the most insignificant of follies, mere accidents that shouldn’t result in death, but do. It only makes the real threats that much more overwhelming to consider now that he’s… like this. 

In all likelihood, he should be completely fine. He was healed by an angel who was at full power, and though he definitely considered the wound to be fatal, he’s not in any position to question it. At least, that’s how it feels. 

The emotion boiling inside of him doesn’t necessarily feel like anything he’s experienced before. It isn’t shame or guilt, or even fear. It isn’t all-encompassing, nor does it envelop him in itself, but rather it pokes and prods, sometimes in the aforementioned pit of his stomach, but sometimes in his head. And sometimes in his chest. 

It’s a discomfort, more than anything; nothing severe enough to cause pain. He doesn’t even think about it for longer than a couple seconds at a time, but it’s been there, radiating dangerously ever since he fell. At first, he thought it might have been, by some miracle, a tiny remainder of his grace; something to cling to in his new life, fraught with danger, and loud noises, and bad smells. 

But now, he’s pretty sure that’s not what it is. He thinks he would’ve recognized it earlier, but really, how easy is it to recognize something you’ve always had, something so ingrained in you that you never thought you’d lose it? 

He bleeds like any other person, and it hurts more than he thought it would, and the feeling inside is decidedly  _ not  _ his grace and he’s still not entirely sure what to think of it. 

He feels it push and pull when Dean’s elbow jabs at his side and winks, and it’s the first time the feeling spreads, emanating from the place Dean touched, all the way out to his fingertips. And it’s only now that he knows what the cold feels like, drenched in rain water as the wind blows, that he recognizes his current feeling as distinctively warm. It takes over every part of him. 

And then it all falls from under his feet. Suddenly, he has nothing but the clothes on his back. He’s far away from the people he cares about, and it’s because those same people don’t  _ want  _ him around. It’s a strange thing to experience for the first time: wanting to be wanted. It hurts more than it did to fall, and the fact that he’s even in the position to think that says a lot. The worst part is that he can’t even say he’s necessarily surprised by any of it. In fact, he gets angry for not seeing it coming at least five times a day. 

He had always assumed that he was alone, both in heaven and on earth, but now it’s different. Now he has to start over, and he’s hungry and tired, and everything is too expensive. Having slept in the shell of an old, broken-down bus, traversing the earth by foot, he couldn’t wait for the comforting embrace of the bunker.

To have it for just a moment was almost worse than not having it at all, and when he looked into Dean’s eyes, he couldn’t understand why he was being asked to leave. He still can’t. He wants to believe that Dean wanted him to be there, but something inside him won’t even allow him to cling to that notion. 

Rexford is nice in that Cas doesn’t have to think about much. He still needs to worry about basic survival, but all of that sits on the back burner when he’s here. He gets a job pretty quickly, despite not knowing how to answer the question of experience. He has a lot of experience but he doesn’t think any of it will help him when it comes to stocking shelves and making change. Nora hires him, sighing a breath of relief when he says he can start as soon as possible, and it’s the first time Cas realizes that they’re  _ all  _ desperate. It’s not just him. The thought makes it a little easier to breathe. 

But it’s only a matter of time before that feeling comes back. He thinks about Dean and about being home before he can think about the fact that it isn’t  _ his  _ home. It’s a place he’s been, and it’s a place where his favorite people are, but it doesn’t belong to him in any capacity. It’s the reason he’s not there right now. 

The feeling reemerges a couple hours later, but this time the edges of it are sharp and frosty, and he thinks it’s going to be one of those days where he gets behind on his tasks at work, just trying to get the feeling to go away. It doesn’t necessarily matter, he can always make it up after hours, but he would hate for Nora to feel burdened by him in any way. So he tries to shake it off the best he can and gets back to working. 

When Nora asks him on a date, he thinks that he isn’t hearing her correctly. She continues to talk and Cas struggles to keep up, so he ends up saying yes before he even fully understands what he’s agreeing to. But Nora smiles, and Cas can’t help but feel excited at the idea of making someone happy with just the promise of his presence, even after she found all of his things in the storage room. While he can’t say that it’s the first time he’s experienced a similar feeling, he thinks it’s the first time it’s been a happiness not completely drenched in desperation. It’s enough to distract him until the thing he’s being distracted from is right in front of him.

The only space between Cas and Dean is the width of the counter, but it feels simultaneously closer and further away than it actually is. Against his wishes, Cas can feel his heart lurch forward and he thinks he might actually be sick which  _ really  _ won’t bode well for his work day. 

And while he thought that seeing Dean again would make him happy, he can’t shake the wave of negative emotions that leave him feeling capsized and out of place. It’s wrong, Cas thinks. This is his place, his new normal, and if anyone should feel out of place, it should be Dean. Instead, he walks around the store, following Cas wherever he goes, and even though it’s incredibly unprofessional, Nora doesn’t tell him to get back to stocking shelves like he’s supposed to. For minutes, he doesn’t even know where she might be because his eyes, ears, and head are so overwhelmed by Dean. 

But he doesn’t break. He doesn’t give any indication of just how desperately he wants to be back with the Winchesters, nor does he let it slip that he’s currently living in a closet. Something in him takes over, wants to prove that he can be on his own. It isn’t until later that he recognizes this as pride. It feels different as a human; much sharper and more spiteful than he was even at the apex of his most righteous missions from heaven. Now the emotion is raw and jagged, and he can feel it pulling at his insides as it makes its way to the surface.

He’s seconds away from bringing up his date, for reasons he can’t even begin to understand, when Nora does it for him, asking for a time confirmation. He smiles and nods, and when he looks back, Dean looks proud of him. It’s not the response that Cas wants, which is more than a little perplexing because when he thinks about it, he doesn’t know exactly what he  _ does  _ want. He doesn’t want to fight with Dean, but he needs  _ something  _ to work with. He had never quite understood why so many humans seemed to be drawn to conflict, the Winchesters as a perfect example, but he gets it now. 

He doesn’t understand it, but he feels it. 

They work the case Dean is on, until Cas is no longer useful. It’s at that moment that it occurs to him; that the reason he isn’t in the bunker with Dean and Sam is because he stopped being an asset. It churns his stomach further, nearly prompting him to exit the car barrelling down the street to Nora’s house, anything to get away from Dean sooner.

And yet, when Dean stops him outside of Nora’s house, and says “I can’t let you do this,” Cas feels the smallest, most inexplicable flicker of  _ something.  _ But it’s nothing. The flicker is snuffed out because it’s just Dean reminding him of another way in which he’s inadequate; how he’s  _ not  _ independent because he doesn’t even own more than a couple sets of clothes, and definitely nothing nice enough for a date. He lives in a closet and has made just enough money to survive, but he’s not like Dean or Sam, or any of the hunters who have had to make it on their own.

He’s useless, maybe even less than useless, and that’s why he’s at Nora’s house and Dean is on a case, actually trying to save people. When he walks away from the car, the feeling comes back and his body soaks it up like a sponge until his limbs feel like they’re shaking with it. 

It isn’t a date. Of course it isn’t. Cas always knew he’d been bad at reading signs. He’d been prone to misunderstanding human communication, but had assumed he’d know something now that he’s one of them. It isn’t an innate skill, and even though Cas should know this, he’s left feeling even more disappointed. And although the weight of indirect rejection hangs over his head, he knows what he’s feeling is also the tiniest bit of relief, a mix of emotions that he can’t figure out with logic. 

It doesn’t last long anyhow. When the baby starts crying, Cas can feel his anxiety spike once again, but through that worry comes an understanding. When he thinks about it, he supposes it makes sense that the one person he can relate to right now is a literal infant. No strength or agency, just waiting for someone to take care of them because they don’t know how to do it themselves yet. 

It means it’s only that much worse when he realizes she has a fever. He doesn’t even want to think about Ephraim breaking into the house, and especially not the words he said, but they echo between his ears as he gets into the car with Dean. He can’t even manage to focus on Nora’s instead, because while he might care more than the average person, he knows that it’s not enough for this world, and that, if anything, it’s a hindrance. 

“So, where to?” Dean asks him. The words feel foreign because he doesn’t have an answer. He’s spent all of his energy since Dean arrived trying to show how capable he is of being alone, only managing to do the exact opposite. He can’t even lie anymore.

“Take me back to work,” he says, staring straight ahead so that he doesn’t have to see the realization slowly reach Dean’s eyes. He doesn’t want to leave Dean again, but he wants his pity even less.

“Isn’t it closed up for the night?”

“I have a key.” Cas still refuses to look at Dean, but he can feel the way his eyes trace his profile. He tenses at the way he can’t figure out if he loves it or hates it. 

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Dean asks, almost like he didn’t even hear the last thing Cas said. That wouldn’t be surprising, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. 

“No, but I can figure something out,” Cas says, finally turning his gaze on Dean, hoping that it’ll convey that he’s fine. Dean just looks at him like he’s broken. 

“You need real food. Just let me get you something and then I promise I’ll take you back.” 

Cas says nothing, but the way he slumps back into the seat must be enough of an answer by Dean’s standards. The definition of ‘real food’ is a little fast and loose at this time of night and though he knows it isn’t healthy, fast food is a lot more filling than the stuff he was eating off of convenience store shelves. He wants to hate Dean because now he knows he won’t be able to go back to it. 

Dean lies. Cas has known this for years. Dean had taught him that people lie when they want something, but in his experience, Cas has noticed that Dean lies for any number of reasons: to protect someone, to keep someone from getting hurt, to stop from being vulnerable. He contemplates what the reason could be this time. 

They’re in a motel parking lot when Dean turns the key, killing the engine. 

“Why are we stopping here?” 

“Because, Cas, there’s gotta be at least one night where you don’t sleep on the damn floor. You’re human now, you’re gonna end up throwing out your back,” Dean says, aggressive and straightforward in tone, but now he’s the one refusing to make eye contact. 

“Actually, I’ve read multiple sources that say sleeping on the floor can improve posture and even relieve pain.”

Dean doesn’t even bother with a response, releasing a heavy breath of air as he steps out of the car. Cas decides his only real option is to follow. 

Dean holds the room key up, but stops in his tracks, still facing the door. 

“I got this room earlier today. Didn’t think you’d be sleeping in a Gas n Sip,” he says, down and almost into his hands. Cas tilts his head. Before he can really start to struggle with interpreting Dean’s words, Dean speaks again, opening the door.

“There’s only one bed. Thought I’d be here alone,” he says, throwing his bag onto a chair in the corner of the room and swallowing deeply. Cas isn’t sure why he’s observant enough to notice. When he considers the way Dean’s mood has shifted, he thinks he finally understands.

“And that would be uncomfortable for you,” he says, holding back a sigh and waiting for it to happen again. Cas hadn’t even wanted to be here. He hadn’t asked Dean for this and yet, it was there again. That feeling, simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.

“It wouldn’t be for you?” Dean asks. It’s evasive, turning the question back on Cas so he doesn’t have to show his own hand first. It’s not a new observation of Dean’s character. Cas thinks Dean had probably been doing the same thing for years before Cas had ever met him. 

“As long as we both fit on the bed I see no reason why the experience should be uncomfortable. I’ll be unconscious for most of it,” Cas says. He bites his tongue and holds his breath waiting for Dean to argue but he just pulls the blanket and topsheet down.

“Just stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine,” is all he says, removing only his jacket and his shoes before climbing in. Cas does the same, knowing that his shirt will be awfully wrinkled the next day at work, but allowing his weight to melt into the mattress anyway, his eyelids getting heavier as Dean turns off the bedside lamp.

There are a few inches of space between them, backs facing each other, but it almost feels like they’re pressed right up against each other, Dean’s body heat enveloping Cas in a blanket of its own. He can’t explain why the feeling comes back, buzzy and concentrated this time, and he really can’t explain the tear that escapes from his eye, hitting the pillow case. He sniffles against his better judgement, and he can feel Dean begin to shift around on the bed. 

Cas does his best to pretend he’s asleep, but Dean is persistent.

“Cas?” he asks in the darkness. Cas stiffens, knowing he looks unnatural but hoping that if he just stays quiet Dean will let it go. He has no luck in that respect - or at all, as far as he knows - and Dean moves closer, putting a hand on Cas’s shoulder, gently shaking and speaking his name again. The sniffles return, louder this time, and accompanied by sharp intakes of breath that he can’t seem to control.

“You okay?” Dean asks, and for the first time since he fell, Cas wants to scream.  _ Of course, I’m not okay. I’m just a person. Nothing will ever be  _ okay. He clears his throat.

“I’m fine. Just… adjusting. Sorry.” Dean’s hand is still on his shoulder, his thumb moving just the slightest bit, back and forth in a way that soothes Cas and makes him want to pull his own hair out. 

“Cas-” 

“I need to go to sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow,” he says, as plain as he can manage, moving away from Dean’s touch and missing it the second it’s gone. 

“Okay,” Dean says, giving up and retreating back to his side of the bed, somehow even further away than before. 

Cas hates this. He’s experienced horrible things; torture and mind control and fatal wounds that should’ve left him dead, but nothing compares to this. He doesn’t dare say it, or even think it, but now that he knows, it won’t stop circling his head and squeezing his heart. 

_ You love him. You have this whole time.  _

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can, until the last of his tears spill out and he starts seeing stars. He falls asleep feeling mocked by his own subconscious. 

When he wakes up in the morning, the faintest rays of sunlight coming from the sides of the curtains, it’s to the feeling of Dean’s arm splayed across his chest, his breath an even in-and-out against Cas’s ear. 

When Dean wakes up neither of them say a word about it. Cas takes a shower while Dean goes out for coffee, and when he drops Cas off at work, it’s almost like nothing has changed. 

Almost. 


End file.
